


Daily Commute

by ValDeCastille



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, First Meetings, Fluff, Meet-Cute, Modern Westeros, No Plot/Plotless, POV Daenerys, just a cute drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-10-15 14:32:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17530499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValDeCastille/pseuds/ValDeCastille
Summary: Daenerys finds new motivation on her way to work. Perhaps the North does have a lot more to offer than cold and snow; a different kind of snow.





	Daily Commute

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Iane_Casey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iane_Casey/gifts).



> Hola, dear friends! How about a fluffy first meeting to cheer you a bit? Sure hope this one does! *smiles*
> 
> Shout out to Dino and Alice for their amazing beta services! *pecks your cheeks* 
> 
> Honeycakes, with all my love, this one is for you! I know about your daily struggle so the idea popped into my head and I just had to write it. You inspired this, bish, so you better like it. Lol jk (only half jk). *grabs your purdy self and squeezes*

****

 

 ****The old trams came and went slowly with blazing lights and loud brassy rackets that resonated in her ears and bounced in her mind. The city was very quiet despite being seven o’clock in the morning on a weekday.

The small number of people still amazed her.

She was used to big crowds —so big that she could get lost in them— endless traffic and pollution; lots of pollution. Not to mention the weather, she thought, suddenly shivering after a draft of wind blew through her body as if she was naked.

She could do without the cold weather, yet here she was, running late to work, enveloped in layer upon layer of thick clothing like a bloody onion with a knitted hat, a thick scarf and gloves to boost. Winterfell was altogether a new and very different experience for her, and she wasn’t loving it.

After exiting Hot Pie's shop with tea in hand —people up North looked at her weirdly every time she mentioned she didn't like coffee— the morning was starting to get better despite feeling a bit rough because of her most recent cold.

She spotted her tram stop and mentally prepared herself for the day before heading towards it. The loud clicking of her heels against the hard pavement she was so used to, had been replaced by the weird muffled sound of boots on snow that accompanied her everywhere nowadays. Even that surprised her still.

For a moment, she thought about the life she had left behind in the loud and busy King's Landing. She couldn't deny she missed the monstrous city, flaws included. She was a big city girl, always had been and —she worried— always would be.

She missed her friends and family though she contacted them quite regularly. She missed the wide variety of food (one could find cuisines from all over the world back in KL), the buzzing streets, the hot nights, and the coast that was just a couple of hours away.

She missed _not feeling cold_.

Back in King’s Landing, she would take a taxi or use the gigantic metro system to get home, instead of these little trams she had to commute in for more than a couple of hours. Back in the capital, she worked in the business district filled with skyscrapers and street vendors, unlike here, where her company's headquarters were located in a flourishing neighbourhood far away from downtown. Over there, even the wind felt colder.

It wasn't that Winterfell was unpleasant or unfriendly, people were actually nicer —way nicer than in King’s Landing— and the aesthetic was sweet, warm-hearted but, for some reason, it didn't feel like home just yet, though it had been one year since her transfer to the Northern capital.

“Oh!”—a raspy voice interrupted her thoughts followed by a bump against what she reckoned was another person, a man, most likely, given the deep sound of the voice— “Excuse me. I'm so sorry,” he finished in proper Northern courtesy.  

“No, no. It's nothing,” she quickly answered without looking up at the stranger. She had been so immersed in her wistful remembrances, she feared the collision had most likely been her fault.

Even without glancing at him directly she could tell he was well-built, but not much taller than her. He wore a fashionable black coat, along with a pair of equally black boots that were stylish and polished. His left hand held a leather briefbag, and an enticing cologne emanated from his presence, which her nostrils took in with pleasure.

He gave off a cosy vibe that made her almost want to hug him, and his voice was alluring, sexy, but at the same time friendly and kind. Unlike her, he wasn't wearing gloves and his scarf was of a very thin fabric, so she was fairly certain he was a native. Only Northern people were so used to this kind of cold temperatures, and the man seemed perfectly unaffected by the drafts of freezing wind and the light snow falling.

It was bizarre, she reckoned, but despite the empty space between her body and his, she felt a lot warmer now, as if his mere presence was heating up the ice of her hands, filling her entirely, from her toes to the top of her head. The wind had lost its bite, the snow no longer bothered her.

There was no time to ruminate about it however, work awaited her. She moved aside to allow him through, only to have him do the same, imitating her movement. On instinct, she moved to the other side trying, once more, to avoid him, but he mirrored her with precision. Both moving right at the same time —again— as if planned, she thought, suddenly everything had turned embarrassing.

A low rumble left his lips in the form of the sweetest chuckle she had ever heard, causing a million butterflies to escape and fly freely within her, and for her to squeeze the tea in her hand a little harder. 

“Shall we dance?” He said, and she could practically hear the smile that followed his question.

She finally looked up, blushing, and a little confused as to why she was doing so. Words failed her right then, refusing to leave her mouth, and her mind stopped functioning, too, clouded by the sight her eyes were taking in.

 _He was a snack_.

_What?_

Calling her name, she chided herself instantly for thinking that way and corrected her choice of words. He was handsome, comely… _Beautiful_.

His face was framed by the silkiest curls, black as Northern nights and shiny as the stars that adorned them. His skin was a milky white, spotted with the evenly black beard that started just beneath his ears and traversed all the way down through his cheeks and chin. It was perfectly trimmed and groomed, just like his hair, and his outfit. He was, without a doubt, on his way to work, and by the look of him, he was important, or he worked at a posh place.

His eyes were a steel grey, odd to her for she had never met anyone with eyes like those —the shade of melancholy, or a sunless afternoon— but all the more appealing. They held a mystery, yet carried kindness, calling out the truths to spoken lies. The final accessory to his look was the dazzling smile he had been displaying for the past minutes, formed by perfectly aligned white teeth behind pouty pink lips.

Trying to avoid embarrassing herself further after her inability to form coherent thoughts and sentences, she ultimately went past the astounding male specimen, throwing an apologetic smile his way for her clumsiness. From the corner of her eye, she saw him shake his head, rejecting her apology as he continued to smile in amusement.

The cold found her body again the second she put distance between the stranger and herself, shivering as her nose turned bright red. But she forced herself to pay it no mind and picked up her pace, afraid to lose her 7:25 tram to work. Although she was already running late, so a five-minute setback didn’t hold much importance.

Still, her feet would not slow their pace and, as if pulled by some force beyond her understanding, they turned back to where she had bumped into the handsome stranger, her subconscious pleading for another look of his form.

She distinguished his wide back amidst the crowd faster than she would have liked, convincing herself —unsuccessfully— that it was his curls that were unmistakable. That and the stylish briefbag he held at his side.

Within the next beat of her heart, she opened her eyes wide when he, too, looked back and found her standing on the platform, staring at him; _ogling —_ most accurately. She blushed once more, paralysed as his bright smile curved his lips again and he waved at her.

Flustered, she looked to her sides to confirm he was, in fact, waving at her and, finding no one close by to deter the assumption, there was nothing left than accept the gesture was meant for her. He laughed at her reaction but turned back to continue on his way as she let out the breath she hadn’t know she was holding.

Like the students passing her by, she felt sixteen again, silly and immature, swooning over the first guy that had smiled at her.

Shaking her head to dissipate her chagrin, she tried not to think much on the encounter, reminding herself that the man had turned around and left. Winterfell was a lot smaller than King's Landing, obviously, but it was a city, after all, so there was no real chance of ever finding him again.

She finally took a holt within one of the designated areas to await the tram and waited with impatience, remembering Mrs Stark, her account manager, who was surely expecting her already.

With a slow pace, the old train approached as another draft of wind made her think of how much she missed sunny, humid days. And she entered one of the first cars cautiously, cursing under her teeth. She didn't want to trip and fall but the otherworldly man had made her all wobbly, thus her legs were not responding as they normally would.

All seats taken, she took a spot before a sweet old lady and what appeared to be her grandchild, taking hold of the plastic handles that hung from the car's roof. However, after three minutes, the tram was still not moving. An oddity, given the precision by which the drivers worked. Everyone on was just as curious as her, whispering to each other what the reason for the delay could be.

One woman theorised about a possible incident on another wagon, another blamed it on the potential strike the tram workers had threatened to initiate if their pledges were not listened to by Winterfell’s mayor.

She couldn't care less about the possible motive the tram was not moving, but she _needed_ it to do so. Being late for fifteen minutes was mildly acceptable, but more than twenty was out of the question.

Two minutes later and still no signs of the tram moving, she started considering to step out and call an Uber, although the money she would spend on it made her feet stay glued to their spot.

She wasn’t freezing anymore, sheltered inside, but the cold that she constantly experienced lingered. The snow was growing thicker outside, and the sky began to darken with dense clouds.

Finally, after another excruciating minute, the buzz announcing the doors would close resonated through the tram, making her feel a little relief. 7:32. _Good_.

She looked out the window, eyes quickly scanning over the people outside before the train departed. Men in suits, children with school bags, women talking over the phone, dog caretakers… She had always enjoyed studying people and imagining possible scenarios for their lives.

She tittered, remembering how her eldest brother would tease her about it endlessly.

The tram’s doors were about to close when a man abruptly interrupted their course and managed to storm in, barely making it. He caused a commotion, attracting everyone’s attention, but he simply smiled and shook off his clothes to rid them of the last traces of snow that remained on them.

Her hands began to sweat and her heart thumped when realisation struck as a stream of lightning upon the earth, that the man who had just entered the car was the same handsome stranger she had encountered on the platform moments before.

Shocked, she quickly turned her head with the intent of avoiding him, hoping he wouldn’t notice her. However, the man looked around, searching for something lost, until he quietly approached her, mumbling apologies for the ruckus he had created and stood —almost proud— next to her. He took a handle too, gazing at her with curiosity and smiling like —she was aware now— only he could.

With a loud, metallic clunking noise, the tram started moving, leaving behind the platform and venturing into the next neighbourhoods before it lost itself within the Northern wilderness; between the old city and the new blooming districts.

Once more, the engulfing cold that accompanied her wherever she went ceased as the onyx-haired man took a stand next to her. Besides his fabulous cologne, there was something else that emanated from him that she couldn’t truly place, feeding the mystery of him to the curiosity within her mind. He stayed silent, though, taking his mobile out of his pocket and browsing through —what she thought looked very much like— Instagram. She wasn’t peeking, _of course_.

She had to begrudgingly admit that his lack of attention —somewhat— hurt, feeling compelled to say something, _anything_ , to alleviate her growing anxiety.

“Weren’t you going in the other direction?” her voice timid as she was, using all the courage she could muster to spit the question out. It was a genuine inquiry, after all, he had been heading in the opposite direction.

He chuckled, emitting that delightful sound of his, and shook his head, freeing a wave of bouncing curls from the constriction of gel. Putting the phone away, he looked directly into her eyes, trapping them in his stormy glare, and spoke with the distinctive Northern drawl she barely understood sometimes; “No, the future looks brighter in this direction.”

She felt her skin flush from under her shirt to the tips of her ears in less than a millisecond, wanting to believe he hadn’t spoken the words that had just come out of his mouth.

 _Had_ he spoken such words?

She wasn’t an expert on flirtation, but she was sure he had just _flirted with her_. Hadn’t he?

She quivered under his gaze, mischievous yet earnest at the same time. Only the gods knew how she was still standing on her feet and with the tea in her hand.

He wouldn’t stop staring and grinning, probably waiting for her to reply but, once again, words failed her. What if she was imagining the whole thing?

Why was her heart about to bust out of her chest?

Why was he so _bloody handsome_?

 _Handsome but a stranger_ , a voice echoed in her mind.

“Jon Snow,” he added out of nowhere as if he had been listening to the conversations inside her head. His voice was now completely serious, no trace of playfulness left, yet his smile remained, though no longer the cheeky grin he had shown her, only sincerity graced his lips.

_Or not._

He raised his eyebrows, expectantly, but she couldn’t do anything but stare at him. Her heart had installed in her head, forbidding rational thought.

Frowning, he turned his attention to the passing wood outside as they neared the following station, baffled at her silence.

_No._

“Daenerys Targaryen,” she blurted promptly, her words tripping over the other as her mouth failed to grasp the speeding thought of her name. She couldn't bear to see his face fall and his eyes turn dark with disappointment. She couldn’t.

The smile she had grown used to in the first few minutes of seeing it shape his lips —and wasn't prepared to ever letting go of— blossomed once again, charming her as if it was the first time she was seeing it. The heat he carried with, and spread around him had conquered the cold that accompanied her since moving to Winterfell. And it had nothing to do with the cramped car or the regulated heating, she was sure of it.

Suddenly, the whole city felt warmer, gentler, friendlier, as if it was embracing her within its ancient castles, snow-covered hills and marvellous history; welcoming her for the first time.

Suddenly, she felt _home_.

Daily commutes may have just got better.

And his smile persisted.

**Author's Note:**

> You likey? 
> 
> Leave some love in the form of kudos and comments if you do! Means the world!! 
> 
> Much love, Val. *blows kiss*


End file.
